Burned

Burned

"Why the long face?"

Connor heard his brother's voice and dreaded the conversation.

"Nothin'."

"Nothin' my ass. What's goin' on?" Jeff Harrison asked his little brother and best friend.

When his younger brother, by two years, Connor, ignored him, he was pretty sure why.

"Did you and what's her name break up?" he asked as he walked toward Connor who was sitting alone on the couch.

"Brittany. And yes, we broke up."

"Yeah, right. Brittany. What the hell, man?"

His brother didn't even look at him, and that told him even more than his silence.

"Let me guess. She cheated on you, didn't she?"

Jeff's voice was more sympathetic, but Connor still didn't reply. He did kind of look his way for a brief moment, and as before, his older brother knew.

"Jesus. Again?" he asked rhetorically as he ran his hand through his thick hair.

Finally, his only sibling looked at him and spoke.

"Yes. Again."

"Wow. How many times can one guy get burned?" came the second rhetorical question.

Connor sighed then said, "Evidently, there's no limit. At least not where I'm concerned."

"This is what? Twice in less than a year, right?"

"I guess."

"No, wait. What about that other chick? From three years ago? Maizie or Mindy or something like that."

"Madison."

"Madison. Right! Yeah, that was brutal," Jeff said before trying to be funny. "But at least she didn't fuck someone you know."

His younger brother gave him the eye then sighed again.

"No. She just told me she...."

"Likes pussy?" his brother continued teasing until he saw it wasn't funny. "Sorry, man. I...you know I'm not good at this stuff, right?"

His brother was older chronologically but not emotionally. He was his flesh and blood, but sometimes Connor wondered how they could be that closely related and have so little in common.

Jeff was lighthearted and easy going. Connor was introspective, quiet, and an introvert. Many people assumed that 'introvert' was a synonym for being shy, but that wasn't true. It just meant that people like Connor preferred being alone or hanging out with one other person. He most definitely wasn't shy. Jeff rarely ever even mentioned how he felt about anything while his brother could pour his heart out or talk about any subject at length. With the right person.

There were other differences, but the one thing they shared was their love for one another, even if Jeff couldn't express it. Connor knew he cared, and although he didn't exactly have a way with words, he knew his brother wanted him to be happy, and this latest disaster in his love life didn't help.

Words weren't Jeff's thing but numbers were. Jeff had a PhD from MIT, no less, and was as brilliant as anyone Connor knew. But he was teaching math at a local high school and had no desire to do anything more with his life. Jeff was also a very attractive guy to whom the women and girls flocked like iron to a magnet. He had no interest in ever settling down, and he had no interest in talking about 'the relationship' with any girl. Those few who tried had been shown the door in short order.

Connor was none of those things. He wasn't un-attractive. He just wasn't what anyone would call handsome. In a word, he just didn't...attract....many women. He was, however, persistent and willing to put himself out there. He got a whole lot of 'no's' and even some 'hell no's!', but he occasionally got a 'yes'.

What made it so hard was that he was unwilling to date 'his integer', a term Jeff had used to describe his brother's problem which Connor, at the time, didn't believe actually was a problem. 'Integer' was kind of synonymous with 'number' as it meant pretty much anything but a fraction. Integers included positive and negative numbers as well as zero. It was, therefore, an apt way to describe the so-called 1-10 rating scale.

Connor knew it was crass to rate women, but he also knew that pretty much every guy did it--at least the ones he knew and that included Jeff. The flip side was that women, many of whom said they despised the 'rating game', did the same thing with men, and that's where the trouble came in.

Connor was a 6, at best, but would only date a 7 or higher. When he finally got a more attractive (than him) girl to go out with him, his need to have those deep, heavy, emotional conversations invariably smothered them. That happened because of his insecurity over his looks, and that, in turn, drove the more attractive girl to either just tell him she'd had enough or fool around with some other guy until she decided to tell him she'd had enough.

The reason they stayed at all was money. Connor had been a reasonably successful website designer whose business had grown substantially by word of mouth. And the truth was he was good at it. Really good. And he was generous to a fault, and that some of his 'sevens' feel like he was also trying to buy their love.

He was no Bill Gates, but he was making between $150,000 and $175,000 a year and loved what he did. He owned a very nice home, an even nicer car, and he dressed well. There just wasn't much he could do with the face mother nature had given him, but he was simply unwilling to 'settle' for an average looking woman, and that meant women who were not only facially attractive but 'height-weight proportionate', as well. As a result, he'd been paying the price for the last few years.

Jeff was definitely a confirmed bachelor while Connor, although just 27 years old, had been seriously thinking about things like a wife and a family for many months. With this most recent girl he'd been dating, he had high hopes she might be the one. She initially not only found his depth interesting, she'd shared her feelings with him. But when every conversation became a soul-draining nightmare, she sought and found comfort in the arms of a former boyfriend. Connor's hopes ended when he stopped by her place unannounced the night before and found her in bed with the guy she swore she was over. A very attractive guy, at that.

He didn't even get mad this time. He just ignored her when she saw him standing outside of her bedroom as she stammered and tried to explain.

"Save it," he told her as her lover turned to see who it was.

Insult was added to injury when he smirked before saying to her, "That's the guy you thought was your soul mate? He looks more like a sole mate as in something stuck to the sole of a shoe."

Too numb to be hurt by the comment or even realize how childish it was, he drove home in silence wondering if this was just his lot in life. That caused him to do a little thinking, and it occurred to him he might have to face reality and look for a woman who wasn't as attractive as he'd like but who had all of the other qualities he wanted in a wife.

It was extremely difficult for him to admit this shortcoming in his personality, but he knew that other than this one ding in his armor, he did his best to be the kind of man a woman could love. He was thoughtful, kind, generous, and yes, very loving. The problem was the women he chose couldn't see themselves with Mr. Average for the rest of their lives--especially if every conversation went to the very depths of his soul. It was just too exhausting.

Okay, there was his intolerable propensity to dig down into the deepest level of the woman's soul, but he was willing to at least try and get a handle on that. But marry a '5'? No. No way. Fives were plain. They didn't have any serious flaws, they just lacked...zing, and Connor craved a little zing. It was what motivated him to keep trying.

When Jeff finally stopped ragging on him and said he needed to go home to his crappy little one-bedroom apartment that was always a mess, Connor sat there licking his wounds--again--and felt more empty and alone than he ever had. It took him a couple more hours of serious soul searching to finally admit the truth, but even then he refused to accept it.

"No way. I'm not doing that," he vowed before getting up and getting ready for bed.

"I'll stay single if I have to, but I am not marrying some Plain Jane. That just ain't happening," he said out loud to himself as though it was some kind of sacred vow.

Still, he knew in his heart of hearts that he was going to end up doing that, because even if he were somehow lucky enough to land a hot girl who'd marry him, he'd always worry about her being unfaithful. Especially with his established track record.

He may have known that, but he still wasn't quite ready to accept it, so he did what he always did. He punted, leaving the issue to fester until he would one day be forced to deal with it.

*****

"Brianna, you need a new design," her younger sister said. "Something fresh and...bold. This...this is so...outdated."

"It's fine!" her big sister insisted. "I'm still getting clients."

"Barely. How much did you make last month?"

She regretted having mentioned the amount to her sister, Beverly, because she knew Bev would use it against her. Then again, Brianna was the one who'd been complaining about her crappy website for weeks. She'd even downloaded a couple of free web design apps and tried to come up with something herself, but it wasn't that easy.

She was able to use the programs well enough to come up with something that wasn't horrible, but her attempts were no better than what she already had and most were worse. Making it really pop was outside her ken, and while it was hard to admit it, she knew Bev was right. She needed help.

"I know a guy," Beverly said after a moment of silence. "Well, it's really a guy who knows a guy."

"Oh, boy. Here we go again," Brianna said rather sarcastically.

The look on Brianna's face said it all.

"Why do you do that?" an exasperated Beverly asked, even though she knew why.

"Look, Bev. I can't even afford a new website right now, so what's the use?"

"I can," her sister replied, knowing how that irked 'Bree'.

She and her husband had money. A lot of money. Brianna didn't. She didn't even have a husband. Not any more, anyway.

Neither of the Layton sisters ever suspected that the man Brianna had fallen in love with had a temper. He was tall, handsome, calm and pleasant, and it wasn't until they'd been married for nearly a year that this other side of him came out for the first time.

It was 'just' a shove but one that was hard enough to knock her off her feet. Fortunately, she was standing at the foot of their bed and when she fell backward it was onto a kingsized mattress. He apologized immediately and profusely, and against her better judgment, she forgave him, and never said a word to anyone about it.

Six months later he exploded in a tirade of anger over what she made for dinner. She'd made the same thing a few days earlier and he'd raved about it. But when she told him what they were having he changed in an instant. It was a true Jekyll and Hyde situation where the man she loved was replaced by an angry monster who grabbed her by both arms and shook while he berated her verbally in the most vile and humiliating way.

Brianna was afraid and began apologizing, but he was having none of it. He essentially lifted her up by the arms and pushed her into a wall as he continued ranting about what a shitty wife she was. Trembling with fear, Brianna promised she'd try harder and do better when out of nowhere his right hand came crashing into her face. He hit her with a closed fist that broke her jaw and sent her to the hospital.

An hour later her husband was behind bars and she was in an ER bed where her jaws were wired together, something she would have to endure for the next 4-6 weeks.

As soon as she was able, she moved out of the house they rented--in his name only--to retrieve her things. Her husband been released on bond less than 48 hours after the arrest, but somehow she managed to avoid him. Her father accompanied her to get her things out of the house, but she was still extremely worried about another confrontation.

The following day she filed for divorce.

When her soon-to-be ex learned of her intent to end their marriage, he nearly let loose on the process server as he seethed with rage. His wife had moved back in with her parents, and while she was healing, Brianna rarely left the house.

As his trial date approached, she had the wires removed from her jaw and was nearly fully recovered when she ventured out alone for a meeting with her attorney to talk about her testimony at the trial.

Two hours later she was on her way home and feeling cautiously optimistic for the first time in weeks. That changed when she got to the house and realized the front door was unlocked. That surprised and scared her because her mom and dad were both at work, and she knew for a fact she'd locked it.

She slowly opened the door and peeked inside.

"Hello?" she called out, even though she knew that no criminal would answer.

She stepped inside then called out again, "Is anyone here?"

She quietly walked through the foyer and looked down the hall then tiptoed to the kitchen. She didn't go in but rather peeked into it as she had when she first got home. Seeing no one she relaxed a little and put a kettle on the stove to make some tea. As it heated up she went to the bathroom to pee and wash her hands, and forgot all about her security concerns.

By the time she got back to the kitchen, the gas stove had done its thing and the kettle began to whistle. But just before she got there it stopped and so did she. Brianna thought she heard the sound of water being poured into the sink, but that made no sense, so she again carefully peeked around the corner.

As she did, an object entered her peripheral vision. She instinctively threw her arm up to block it, but whatever it may have been was moving too fast. It took her brain a second or two to realize what was happening, and by the time it did it was also registering the pain that came with it.

"You fucking BITCH!" she heard as the hot kettle pressed against her cheek.

She screamed just as she saw her husband's face which was contorted with rage. His fingers wrapped around her throat, and just seconds later the pain stopped as her world went dark.

Mercifully, everything after that until she awoke in the same hospital a few hours later, was unknown to her. When she opened her eyes, she saw her mother's face and thought she saw tears in her eyes.

"Honey, how are you feeling?" her mom asked as her dad stood up and came around the other side and took her hand.

They had her heavily drugged, and she really wasn't feeling anything.

"What...happened?" she asked as she began to understand where she was.

"I'll go get the nurse," her mother said to her dad without answering Brianna's question.

"Dad? What's going on?" she asked, feeling groggy and tired.

He tried to smile, but she saw tears in his eyes, too, and her father never cried.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" she asked as the fog began to slowly lift just the slightest little bit.

He squeezed her hand but didn't say anything just as a nurse walked in with a doctor not far behind.

"Ms. Layton. I'm Doctor Weston. How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I think. Why am I here?"

The doctor bent down and seemed to be looking at the left side of her face. After several seconds he stood up then explained.

"You were attacked," he began.

"What?" Brianna asked, trying to make sense of what she thought she heard.

"Your husband," the doctor told her. "He...I'm afraid he caused some serious burns to the left side of your face. Most likely from a very hot tea kettle, according to the police officer who briefed me."

Brianna raised her hand to her face and felt the bandages. As she gently probed the large area covered by gauze and surgical tape, she saw her mother turn away as she started to cry.

"How bad is it?" Brianna asked, very much feeling the effects of the morphine drip.

"You have second and third degree burns on the left side of the face," the doctor told her. "We've completed the initial course of treatment, but we'll need to continue treatment for several weeks before we can do a skin graft."

"Wait. A graft?" she asked, some part of her brain beginning to understand.

"Honey?" her father said. "It's serious, but your mom and I will be right here with you through it all. I promise."

"How serious?" she asked both him and the doctor.

"I'm afraid there will be a fair amount of permanent scarring, but we will do our best to mitigate that."

Brianna knew something was very wrong, but she was so tired she couldn't keep her eyes open. It wasn't until some 12 hours later when her bandages needed to be changed that she learned just how bad the damage was.

The nurse did her best to keep her patient from looking, but Brianna was adamant. She handed her a mirror, and as Brianna looked she kept thinking she was watching a Sci-Fi movie, because that couldn't possibly be her face.

She'd been considered a pretty girl as long as she could remember. Some called her beautiful, but she was definitely an attractive woman. As she turned her head from side to side, the face she'd known all her life appeared and disappeared as her brain tried to make sense of the images it was receiving.

"I'm...hideous," she quietly said as she took one more look.

"No. Honey. They've come a long way and can do a whole lot," her mom said, a wet tissue in one hand as she used the other to touch the unaffected side of her daughter's face.

Still groggy, but not as bad, Brianna thought to herself, "I'll never find anyone willing to even...look at me...let alone make love to me."

Too numb to cry, and too tired to speak, she let the nurse finish her work then told her parents she needed to rest.

Two days later she was discharged, but in the short amount of time she was in the hospital she went from seeing herself as an attractive woman of 41 to some kind of...freak.

Her doctor showed her numerous photos of women with similar burns and how the face looked post-treatment. While the difference was significant, there wasn't a single case where the face looked anything close to normal. The only issue was how much damage remained. Some looked...tolerable. Most looked bad. Some looked...some made her ill to look at.

As she struggled to deal with this new reality, she had no interest in the fact that her husband was in jail again, this time without bond and would likely spend the next several years in prison. Even knowing that her divorce would be final at the six-month mark since filing the papers did nothing to make her feel better.

Over those next weeks and months she endured the horrible pain of debridement and eventually a small graft. The end result wasn't good, but it was the best current medical technology could offer. She was in the 'tolerable-to-bad' category, and while Brianna tried to be thankful she wasn't in the 'horrendous' group, the difference seemed wholly academic to her.

Just before she was attacked, or rather before she came back to an unlocked house, she'd had the first inkling of hope that one day she might find a man who not only wouldn't be abusive to her but who would love her the way she'd always dreamed of being loved. And she vowed that if she ever did that she would love him just as much and promised herself she would be the kind of woman any man would be proud to have as his wife.

Now, even with makeup, she couldn't stand to look at herself. The area that had been burned was roughly 3 x 4 inches, and while the outer edges weren't as bad, even they were noticeable. But it was everything else that caused her despair as it looked like she had a huge, round hole in the side of her face that had been plugged with an off-color patch.

No, she decided, it wasn't a hole. It was more like a round, whitish patch had been sewn to her cheek. Also, her skin had been pulled so tightly that her left eye seemed to droop. At one point she sarcastically told herself that all she needed to do was wear an eyepatch and a veil over half her face and all would be well.